


Being With You (Feels Like Home)

by torontolife



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Farm/Ranch, F/F, The 100 - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-23
Updated: 2015-05-07
Packaged: 2018-03-25 08:44:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3804121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/torontolife/pseuds/torontolife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which city girl Clarke returns to her small home town in Australia after her life falls apart in New York. Or the one where her mother's young farm hand helps her heal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Home Coming

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, so I'm super new to this whole writing thing and thought I would give it a shot here because I've been super inspired by Clexa lately ;).
> 
> Any feedback, negative or positive, would be greatly appreciated and welcomed! 
> 
> I'm from the U.S. So I'm doing research on Australia as I go along. If anyone finds anything that should be changed or is innacurate, please let me know!

Clarke had never really been one for showing exuberant amounts of emotion. Even standing next to Finn’s mom, dressed from head to toe in black with the small woman gripping onto her arm, she could hardly muster a tear. 

Sure, she felt the agony twisting in her stomach, churning in the most vile way, reminding her with every intake of breath that he was gone. But it had been a long time coming; she had expected it to end this way months ago. She had prepared.

It was cancer. Wasn’t it always? It had struck when they least expected and it had struck hard. Stage four lung cancer in a non-smoker; of course it was. Clarke had spent a lot of time, after the diagnosis, wondering why them. What did she ever do to the universe that it had all of the sudden turned on her and given her this fate. 

She recycled, paper and plastics. She looked both ways before she crossed the street and always gave her leftovers from nights out to the homeless who frequented the New York city streets. She still didn’t understand.

Finn was optimistic throughout the whole thing, as he always was about everything, and in the end, when it came down to it, it was his decision to stop treatment. She had argued with him for hours about it. Why throw your life away? You could still fight this! You could make it through! Even in flashbacks her words sounded too dangerously hopeful. 

But she had known then that she was just grasping at straws that weren’t even there. And one night, when Finn had awoken next to her, coughing up blood, looking at her in a way she couldn’t help but think she was too young to be looked at, she knew. It was time to let to, and it was time to move on.

So here she was now, standing over his grave, trying to form some semblance of a tear. She was too cried out. She had done months and months of crying. She had cried when Finn was diagnosed, sobbed when he had bad days, and whimpered when he had good ones. She had let tears silently coat her face when his hand had gone limp her hers and wiped them away when the nurse had come to turn off the monitor that showed his flatline.

When the service was over, the casket lowered in the ground, food packaged up, and people sent away, Clarke had looked at the people around her, said her goodbyes, and headed back to her apartment. She didn’t want to linger and reminisce about Finn’s life. She had enough good memories of him on her own. 

Walking through the front door, everything appeared the same as if always had. There were pictures on the fridge, and bills on the counter. Their bed, no, her bed, was unmade, and the stack of books on the nightstand was as tall as ever. She inhaled and was instantly reminded of Finn’s boyish smile and the wrinkles in his forehead. 

She couldn’t stay here anymore. She couldn’t keep running up the stairs, looking excitedly for his bike outside of the door, indicating that he was home. She couldn’t keep running into the little reminders that covered this city. 

She needed to get away, she needed to go back to before she knew Finn, where life was simple and living was even simpler. She needed to go home.

~

Getting off of the plane from JFK and walking into the airport of Eucla, Australia, Clarke could already feel herself becoming lighter. She had carried the baggage of Finn’s disease for too long, and simply stepping into her native, muggy home country had relieved some of the pressure.

She hiked her duffel higher onto her shoulder and slouched outside to greet her mother. Clarke hadn’t come home for years and despite calling her mom every chance she could, she still felt guilty for not trying to visit more.

Walking through the doors into the warm sunlight, Clarke flipped down her sunglasses from the top of her head and searched impatiently for her mom’s old truck that never seemed to die. She spotted it down the row of waiting families with her mom leaning on the side. 

It had been years since she had last seen her, but Abby Griffin’s face was still as kind as ever. Tanned from the days she had always spent outside and wrinkled from constant smiling, Abby was the epitome of a sight for sore eyes. 

Looking at her mom’s familiar face, Clarke immediately lost all of her worries. Abby understood that after growing up in a one street town, Clarke had needed to get away, that she was destined for more than raising sheep and underage drinking in abandoned barns. Abby opened her arms and Clarke fell into them willingly. There was something about the simple embrace from one’s mother that can cure almost anything. Clarke buried her head into her mom’s shoulder, inhaling the familiar scents; laundry detergent, soil, faded lilac perfume.

“Clarke”, Abby sighed into her daughter’s embrace, “How’re you holding up? Let me get a good look at you.” Abby held her at arm’s length, eyeing her with caution. It was odd, hearing someone else speak with the same accent as her. Spending years in the United States had worn down her native tongue. Clarke tried to grin sheepishly, but failed. “You should have told me, Clarke. I could have been there for you,” Abby tripped over her words, choking up a little,”I-I could helped you through it, been there for you.”

Clarke bowed her head. Yes, it was true that she didn’t exactly tell her mom of her situation, but that was simply because she knew that Abby couldn’t get too much time away from the farm and she didn’t want to worry her already overly concerned mother.

“I know mom,” Clarke managed “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I know you always liked Fi-him.” She still couldn’t say his name without the familiar ache settling in her stomach.

“Come one,” Abby said as she pulled Clarke’s duffle off of her shoulder and hoisted it into the bed of the truck “Lets go home. We can talk about it later.” Clarke nodded, pulled herself up into the cab of the truck, sunk back into the musty seat, and cranked, yes cranked, her window down as her mom pulled the truck onto the main road and drove away.

~

An hour or so later, Clarke awoke to the sound of the truck pulling up in the gravel driveway of the house she had grown up in. She looked up at it through the window, and in spite of herself, she smiled her first real smile in months.

The bricks, the red door, the window shutters, they were all the same. The colors were a little more subdued, and the house numbers had started to peel, but it was still home. The tire swing was still hanging from the tree off to the side, and the endless fields of swaying wheat still stretched out behind it. 

She couldn’t see the roof of the barn over the hill but she could definitely still hear the cows, mooing and munching on the grass in the fields surrounding the property. The sound had always bugged her growing up, but now, it was a welcome change from constant horn blasts and swearing cab drivers.

 

“What do you want for dinner?” Abby shouted from kitchen. Clarke could hear her rummaging around in the cabinets from the couch in the living room where she had plopped herself down on the couch and was flipping through the channels on the tv. The windows were thrown open and there was a light breeze that carried the smell of clean grass throughout the room.

After spending years cooped up in the city with the windows slammed shut to keep out the diesel, Clarke had taken to breathing as deeply as she could as often as she could. She stood up from her comfortable curled up position on the couch and made her way into the kitchen, sliding across the tiled floor in her socks till her hips bumped up against the island.

“Whatever you want,” she grabbed an apple from the bowl in the center, taking a hunk out of the side. “Is there anything I can do to help?” Abby had already started to busy herself, pulling pots and pans out of seemingly random drawers.

“Actually, could run down to the barn for me?” Abby reached into the door for the box of matches, lighting the gas stove which had been broken for as long as Clarke could remember. “I have someone helping out down there, but I usually take care of the chickens myself.”

“Sure, just clean up, feed, check for eggs? The usual stuff?” Clarke asked, pushing herself away from the center counter, finishing her apple as she did.

“I’m surprised you remember what to do,” Abby laughed from the sink, wiping her hands off on her jeans.

“Taking care of the chickens was always my favorite, mom. Remember when dad brought home our first little family? We spent weeks building that coop.” Abby laughed at the memory of Clarke in all of her tiny glory, dressed to the nines in her overalls with a matching hammer and barefeet to boot.

“Of course I remember. Now get going, dinner should be ready by the time you get back.” 

Clarke turned and pushed open the back door, grabbing her boots from where they still sat on the bench outside. She started making her way out from the yard into the fields, feeling the way the ground transformed from the groomed perfection of the lawn into the muddy mess with gnawed down nubs of grass under her toes as soon as she had hoped the wooden fence separating her property from the farm’s. 

As she crested the hill of the field, she finally was graced with the sight of the barn she had grown up exploring. Taking a minute to pull on the boots over her already dirty feet, she took in the sight. 

The broken down tractor was still rusted to the south side of the barn where the pigs used to be, and the old hay silo, now empty, stood by the corner facing the road. Clarke’s favorite part of her family’s farm was the fact that it looked exactly as one would expect. White roof with red paint to boot, it fit every stereotype imaginable, right down to animals that could be found milling around the barnyard. 

Walking past the chickens, Clarke noticed how dirty it was and shook her head. Her mom was never one for shoveling shit. Luckily, Clarke’s dad has instilled this life skill in her from a very young age, so she was prepared for the battle she would soon face. Chickens may be small in comparison to the cows, but god, they were nasty little creatures. 

Walking up to the door, Clarke shoved all of her body weight against it, sliding the heavy wooden beast along the track. Sunlight flooded the inside, revealing the dimly lit stalls on one side, the old Massey tractor in the middle, and the grain cellar and tool shed that lined the other side. Staticy country music played just loud enough from an old boombox covered with cobwebs in the corner, Clarke recognizing the song, started humming along as she unlocked the tool shed, pulling out the shovel and feed bucket.

She was filling it with chicken feed from the grain cellar when she heard a disgruntled voice from behind her.  
“Who the fuck are you and how did you get in here.” Clarke whipped around, dropping the bucket in shock, grain spilling across the cement floor. Standing in front of her, a hand placed accusingly on a hid that jutted out from her torso, foot tapping impatiently, was a girl, probably no older, or not much older than she, dressed in jeans and a tank top, a flannel tied around her waist, with muck boots that went up to her knees. “I’m not gonna ask again. Who. Are. You?” The girl took a menacing step closer, her eyes narrowed and she crossed her browned arms, accentuating the muscle in them.

“I-i’m, it’s just, this,” Clarke stumbled over her words.

“Spit it out,” the girl growled, taking another step towards her, “This is private property and if you think you can just waltz in here-” Clarke took a breath, regaining her composure and straightening herself up to match the girls aggressive posture.

“This is my property thank you very much.”

“What?” Clarke stuck a hand out,

“Clarke Griffin, Abby’s daughter. And you are?” The girl eyed her hesitantly before responding.

“I’m Lexa. My family works for your mom.” Lexa looked down at Clarke’s hand again before reaching out and shaking it quickly, dropping it almost as soon as fast as she had shook it.

“Well, now that that’s settled,” Clarke laughed nervously, “I’m going to get back to-” her sentence trailed off as she jutted her thumb behind her, gesturing to the grain cellar.

“Yeah, I have stuff to do as well, sorry for the- earlier” Lexa ran her fingers over the top of her head and down her braid, tugging on the end before tossing her hand up as a goodbye, shuffling awkwardly back towards the stalls. Clarke watched her disappear into one, understanding now how she didn’t see her before. 

Picking up her, now full, bucket of chicken feed and her shovel, Clarke headed back outside towards the coop, tossing one last glance at the stalls. She could almost swear she saw a set of eyes peering back at her from between the old slats, and even though her fiance had just died and she was staying in her childhood bedroom at her mother’s house, she couldn’t help but let a small ghost of a smile grace her lips.


	2. Gal Pals

Chapter 2:

Two Months Later

Rediscovering driving was probably Clarke’s favorite thing about being home. Living in the city, she had been able to avoid it at all costs, taking the subway when she could. Finn always made fun of her when she came home with stories of what she had seen underground that day. But being here, she could drive for hours along the back roads; winding and twisting along and around the hills that surrounded the small valley where their property was located. She jumped at every chance she could to hop in the truck and go, which is why, when Abby asked her to head into town to grab some supplies for the upcoming week, Clarke volunteered enthusiastically.   
Despite the shit show that was her life, she was never one to sit around in her room under the covers listening to sad music. Yes, her fianc-Finn, was dead, and even though she had taken time to grieve, he was never far off. She had listened to his favorite songs mournfully, she had visited his parents and stopped by to see his sister. 

She had taken the time (and the last of her money) gone back to their apartment in the city and packed up all of his things, skillfully ignoring the growing stack of bills and notices that her neighbor, Mrs. O’Reilly, had placed with care on the coffee table. Piles of shirts that still smelled faintly of hospitals and sickness, photos, records, books, his favorite coffee mug, all placed with care into old cardboard boxes and taped up. 

The only thing she couldn’t bear to get rid of was his bike, which she had paid to be flown back with her. It now sat rusting in the corner of the barn because she could hardly look at it, let alone take care of it like Finn did (Neurotically, every night.). She was slowly getting over the loss. Slowly being the operative word. 

So she drove. She drove for hours and hours over the hills and further into the backcountry. She took lefts or rights, following the GPS or her gut. On that day particular day though, Clarke decided she would just head straight to the store for her mom. 

Pulling out of the gravel driveway and onto the main street, originally titled Old Towne Rd., movement along the side caught her eye. It was the girl, Lexa, was her name, running (sprinting would probably be a better word for it) along the side of the road. Her brown curls were spilling out of the ponytail on top of her head and Clarke watched her for a second, car idling. She was stupidly pretty and even Clarke could admit that. 

In a loose tank top and running shorts, Lexa made Clarke's stomach twist in all of the wrong and right ways. Clarke wasn’t stupid, she knew that she was somewhat interested in girls, but when she started dating Finn in college, she never really got the chance to figure it all out.

Now, it was pretty apparent to her that she was definitely attracted to this brooding, quiet female. She pulled the truck up besides her and rolled down the window.  
“Going somewhere?” 

“I’m just headed back to the barn, we live up the road, so I run here.” Lexa barely spared her a glance, her talking even despite her fast pace. 

“Want to hop in? I can give you a ride for the rest of the way.” Lexa gave her a strange look.

“You know the barn is right there, right?” She pointed to the red structure that couldn’t have been more than 500 meters away. 

“Well you never know, you could be ready to pass out right now and I could be saving your life.” Clarke deadpanned, giving the other woman a pointed look. “I’m not going to take no for an answer anyway.” 

Looking a bit perplexed and semi-defeated, Lexa finally stopped running as Clarke brought the truck to a quick, albeit squealing stop (She really needed to remember to look at those brakes). 

“Fine,” she pulled herself up into the cab of the truck, Clarke tried not to notice how her arms flexed slightly, “But don’t think that this makes us friends.” Clarke looked over, startled at her frankness, Lexa’s face held a slight smirk. 

“Oh, you’re joking.” Clarke laughed uncomfortably

“You’ve been here for months and we’ve only ever interacted once, Clarke, of course i’m joking.” 

"Right." Clarke put the truck into gear, "I guess all of these weeks only talking to people twice my age makes me unpracticed at interacting with the youth." 

"Yeah, I suppose so." Clarke could feel Lexa staring at her inquisitively from the other side of the truck. She knew that the brunette wanted to ask her why she was here all of the sudden. What made her come home to the middle of the scorching outback? 

Everyone in her small town knew the story of Clarke Griffin's brave trek to America after high school, but none of them really knew why she had returned. Most thought it was money, others thought she had been deported, but none of them really knew. She wondered when Lexa's family had moved here, because they most certainly hadn't gone to school together, she would have remembered her.

Clarke pulled up to the barn. "Here's your stop."

"Where are you headed?" Lexa asked, making no sudden movements to exit the cab.

"My mom needs some stuff from town so I'm heading in that direction."

"I actually need to pick up some parts for a tractor that my brother is fixing, can I ride along?" Clarke hesitated before nodding. Maybe a new friend would do her some good, even if this friend happened to exude the sort of attractiveness that Clarke found appealing. 

She would get over her slight obsession in time. Pulling back out onto the main road, Lexa, still stoic in the passenger seat, leaned forward to turn on the radio. Things were quiet, but Clarke was grateful she didn't try to make awkward, forced conversation. 

Lexa was of little words, but Clarke was glad for the company.

~

Clarke's slight obsession didn't go away in time, in fact, it only seemed to get worse. She needed a friend, that's all it was. With Octavia and Raven back in the states and her childhood friends Monty and Jasper on the other side of the country moving on with their lives, it was just her and her mom. 

And Lexa. Lexa was here and she was quiet and she didn't know who Clarke was or what had happened to her. Lexa was new and Clarke desperately wanted to befriend her. I

It had nothing to do with the fact that every time Clarke saw her from a distance her stomach clenched and when she saw her up close she felt like throwing up (from the nerves. She was never good at making friends. It's just nerves) 

Nevertheless, Clarke found herself going out of her way to run into the brunette. She was at the barn every chance she could get. Running errands, feeding the chickens, grabbing tools for the garden by the house, she even volunteered to help Abby shovel out the cow stalls while Lexa and her brother, Lincoln, milked the few dairy cows they had and herded the rest into the pasture. 

One afternoon on Clarke's third trip to the barn that day, she found Lexa leaning expectantly on the gate to the chicken coop. Clarke felt herself blush under Lexa's intense stare. She ducked her head as she got closer, shaking her blonde curls in front of her face in an attempt to hide her flushed visage.

"I've been thinking about why you come down here so often." Lexa started. Clarke's head shot up, eyes wide. Busted. "You've obviously got a thing for Lincoln."

Clarke let out a long gust of air she didn't realize she had been holding in and laughed a little bit shaking her head. 

"No! It's not- I'm not- I just got out of a relationship, I'm not really-" Clarke jumped to her own defense clumsily. Being around Lexa had some sort of affect on her brain. She wasn't quite sure what to make of it.

"Okay," Lexa's eyes narrowed, "if you're not into Lincoln, then why do I see you here fifteen times a day?" Clarke looked up from her toes into inquisitive, stern green eyes. She felt her mind go blank, every excuse she had thought up was gone. It wasn't until she had torn her eyes away from Lexa's that her brain started functioning again. 

"I'm not into your brother, and I just enjoy being here! I've been cooped up in the city for too long, smelling the cow shit actually makes me happy." Clarke smiled a little, proud of how well she had pulled that off.

"Well Clarke, if you're going to be around so often, maybe we should get to know each other a little better."

"'Maybe we should." Clarke thought she saw the corner of Lexa's lips turn up into a small smile.

"I have to get back to work, but I'm sure I'll see you around." Lexa looked at Clarke once more, trapping her in the green abyss again before turning her back and stalking back to the barn.

~

After Clarke's embarrassing failure at trying to subtly be around Lexa more, she decided that being covert wasn’t exactly her forte. So she started small. She started with lunch. Her dad had always been the one who would come in from the barn and cooked up a giant meal for all of the people who were helping him out that day. After her had died, the tradition had died with him. But with some negotiations, Abby jumped on board with a stern message of “Clean up after yourself” and a gentle smile. 

On the first day, Lexa and her brother, along with several other teenagers that helped with the dirty work as a summer job, probably set up by their grandparents who felt the need to instill more values into their grandchildren, Abby, and Clarke sat around the table in the farmhouse’s small dining room in excited chatter. 

Hands reached eagerly over the table to grab bread, or to pass the salt. Lexa's plate was piled high with all of the food she could possibly fit and when she tried to fit a piece of potato into her mouth and failed, her eyes darted around making sure no one had seen her little failure.

Unfortunately for her, Clarke had been watching her the whole time, unable to take her eyes away, and was now cracking up at Lexa's expense. Lexa blushes deeply as Clarke caught her eye again and smiled warmly. The chatter seemed to fade away as blue met green. 

Lexa shook her head a bit, almost as if she was in the same stupor Clarke found herself caught in. Clarke smiled again and leaned over towards Lexa “see something you like, huh?” she joked.

“Maybe I do.” Lexa looked at Clarke “Or maybe I just think its better looking at the cows than looking at you.” Lexa smirked as Clarke threw back her head in laughter, winking at Lexa over her glass of water.

 

~

After that, they were inseparable. It seemed to Clarke as though Lexa needed a friend just as much as she did. (A friend, Clarke, a friend.) It was nice to have the company around, Clarke knew that much, and after being away for all of these years, she felt like a stranger in her own hometown. Lexa knew all of the great new diners and bars and in exchange, Clarke paid whenever Lexa took her to a new place. 

It was on a rowdy night out at the local bar that Clarke really started to learn about Lexa. Leaning heavily on their corner table, Lexa gripped her drink tightly She volunteered at the local school where she coached the intramural soccer team (after some prying, Clarke had discovered that Lexa had moved to Eucla to be with her aging father after her short lived soccer career had ended with a broken-ankle-yielded-to-botched-surgery disaster. Lexa said it didn’t bother her anymore).

Clarke had also learned that Lexa’s mom had died when she was younger, her favorite colour was green, “but like, the leaves on the trees after six pm green.”, she only drank banana smoothies if there was a bendy straw available, and she had left her last girlfriend, Costia, back on the other side of the continent in Sydney where she was still playing soccer (They had tried to make it work, but had failed miserably.)

“So, how long were you guys together?” Clarke stuck a chip into her mouth. 

“We met in college. She played soccer, I played soccer, she was into ladies, I was into ladies.” Lexa shrugged, “It was bound to happen, the two gay girls on the team, you know.” She shrugged again, taking a swig from the bottle she held tightly in her hand.

“And she still plays soccer then?

“She still plays. We were both recruited to the same team and so when we moved to Sydney to join them, we just decided to move in together.” Lexa leaned over the bar and waved over the bartender, ordering another beer. “She always cooked breakfast.” Clarke looked over at Lexa. She was staring down at her bottle, carefully peeling the label away from the glass. Her hair had fallen out of her loose braid and was now hanging around her face. 

Clarke inhaled sharply and asked, “Do you miss her?”

“Everyday.” Lexa answered without skipping a beat. Clarke nodded and threw back the remaining contents on her bottle, setting it back down on the bar. She grabbed her jacket, swinging it around her shoulders, then grabbed Lexa’s hand. 

“Come on, that enough ghosts for tonight.” Lexa looked up at her, smiled slightly, and allowed herself to be tugged along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, this chapter is kind of all over the place. Hopefully you like it! I plan on integrating other characters from The 100 soon. Any suggestions? I want this story to be very reader-run so that you guys get to read what you want to read and I still get to write about my beloved Clexa! :)


	3. Things Get... Complicated

Chapter 3: Things get… complicated.

Clarke was sitting idly at her kitchen counter one night poking at her microwave macaroni and cheese with one hand and scrolling through her social media accounts with the other. The windows were thrown open to let in the muggy dusk and the curtains fluttered with the stirrings of a summer storm breeze. Her mum was visiting a friend a few towns over for a couple of days and Clarke had officially run out of food. As an adult, Clarke should be capable of going to the market and buying food to sustain herself, but here she was. 

Giving up on social media (seeing all of her friends back in the states in clubs, out to dinner, and partying was something she did NOT want to see) Clarke plopped herself down on the couch, slamming the power button on the tv. Clarke’s cousin, Monty, had brought his gaming console last time he had come to visit her mum, so Clarke, out of pure boredom, dragged the box out of the closet and hooked it up. After some digging, she unearthed two controllers and a shoe box of games. 

Clarke quickly assessed her situation. The way she saw it, she could sit here in her mum’s living room on a stormy thursday night as a 25 year old playing video games alone, or she could have another person join her pity party. Clarke thought for about a second longer before snagging her phone. She quickly tapped out a message, sent it and sat quietly for about a minute. 

Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid. What kind of person invites another adult to play video games? Wow I should not have sent that. Okay. I’m just going to pretend it was for someone else, can I do that? Who else do I know here? God. No one. Shit. Okay, so I’m drunk. I’m insane? That’ll never work. 

Clarke’s brain was on high alert as she looked back down at her phone. It was too late. The message had been delivered three minutes ago. And, shit,

“FUCK.” Clarke yelled. 

The message had been read. There was no turning back. She waited as patiently as she could for those three dreaded dots, indicating that the other person was typing out their response. It never came. Two minutes passed, then five, then ten. 

It wasn’t that they had painfully rejected her, it was they they had never even responded that really got to Clarke. How the hell am I ever going to show my face anywhere again? 

She was in the middle of a tub of ice cream, a bottle of wine and the worst Nicholas Sparks film she could find on OnDemand when she heard a knock on the door. Clarke tore her eyes away from the delectable cast that graced the screen and looked at the clock; 9:45. Clarke paused the movie and rose inquisitively.

The knock sounded again, more urgent this time. Clarke made her way to the door and noticed how much the storm had picked up. The wind was whipping the tree branches around like mother nature’s version of Fifty Shades of Grey and Clarke could see that her mothers potted plants on the front porch had already been knocked over. 

This time, the doorbell rang again and echoed eerily through the empty house. Clarke opened the door a crack, peering at the stranger outside cautiously.

“Clarke for fuck’s sake open up. It’s miserable out here.” Clarke’s jaw dropped. She had come. She opened the door a bit wider and took in the sight. Lexa had her hair tied into a loose knot on the top of her head and donned an old crewneck sweatshirt and black pants that were tight in just enough places to make it hard for Clarke to swallow. Realizing she had been staring, Clarke blushed, embarrassed. “Well don’t you look comfy.” Lexa smirked a bit, as she continued “Are you going to let me in or what?” Clarke stepped aside, allowing the other woman to pass the threshold. 

“You came?” Clarke asked it like a question, despite the largeness of Lexa’s presence. 

“I came and I brought snacks. Where’s this gaming center?” Clarke recovered and led Lexa into the living room where her ice cream stub stood abandoned and Zac Efron’s impressive physique still graced the paused screen. 

“Gave up already?” Lexa asked, staring blankly at the screen, “Even I can understand why.” Clarke laughed.

“I guess I just wasn’t in the mood anymore and decided that Zac Efron as a hunky military vet with a traumatic past was way more my speed tonight.” 

“Well, since i’m here, can I stay and watch?” 

“Absolutely!” Clarke jumped up a little bit too excited, “I can restart the movie!”

“Oh no you don-”

“I insist!” Clarke drew out her words “You have to see it from the beginning or it won’t make sense!” She bounded over to the couch, plopping herself down and patting the seat next to her, “Come on!” Lexa took a breath.

“Who is in this movie anyways, besides Zac Efron, of course.” 

“Taylor Schilling is the other main main character, y’know? Piper from Orange Is the New Black? You watch that right? Isn’t it like, a staple show? I love it.” 

“You like the show about a bunch of chicks getting it on in prison?” Lexa gaped openly at Clarke as she sat herself down on the couch, drawing her knees towards her chest and wrapping her arms around them.

“Its a good show!” Clarke stated, a little defensively, “Finn liked it too.” Lexa averted her eyes slowly, not sure how to proceed. 

“Well he had good taste then. In a lot of things.” Clarke was about to ask what she meant when the movie’s opening credits finally started playing. 

~  
Lexa 

The movie had ended about an hour ago, and Lexa laid awkwardly pressed into the back of the couch. The coffee table was littered with empty wine glasses and ice cream containers. The storm continued to blow outside and the winds carried the sweet smell of rain laced with the earthy scent of the barn.

The tv had reset back to the dvd player’s home screen and was shining a blue hue across the room. Clarke and Lexa had shifted somewhat during the movie as they had gotten and a little bit more drunk and little bit more tired. Clarke currently had her legs hanging off of the armrest of the couch and had her head pressed into Lexa’s stomach, her blonde curls knotted around her shoulders while Lexa stretched along the back of the couch. 

She was beautiful, there was no denying that. She reminded Lexa of Costia in so many ways it was almost painful, but then Clarke did something so Clarke and so new and so different, that Lexa found herself being pulled from the past and headfirst into the present with Clarke. 

When she had gotten a text from Clarke asking her to come over and play video games, Lexa had a sense of deja vu. The whole thing was so Costia, so high school, that it took her hours to finish her work up at the barn. She kept getting distracted by the ghosts of her past. After she finished, she deliberated for about a second home before sprinting home and showering before jumping into her car and speeding back down the road. 

The storm had really picked up by the time she had pulled into the driveway and pushed open her door only to have the wind slam it shut again. She sprinted to the door and knocked furiously, trying to get into any form of shelter. 

She had nearly forgotten that it was Clarke’s house she had arrived at until the door opened slightly and two blue eyes peered out.   
Clarke had opened the door wider, exposing her attire of loose pyjama pants falling off of her hips and a white shirt hanging lower than necessary, showing off the fact that Clarke did indeed have a tattoo tracing her collarbone. Lexa watched as she tightened the blanket around her shoulders and shivered slightly at the chill that had settled outside and her eyes widened a bit when she realized that it was Lexa. 

Fuck. I am so screwed. 

 

So Lexa smiled and drank wine and watched chick-flicks with her new friend and tried to ignore the yearning that had started somewhere deep in her stomach. She tried to ignore that fact that she could only see half of the constellation tattoo and she suppressed the urge to ask Clarke if she had anymore. 

She is your bosses daughter. Off limits, Lex. Completely off limits. She’s straight anyway. Any woman who drools over Zac Efron like that is definitely straight. 

Then again… anyone who doesn’t drool over Zac Efron must have some sort of eye impairment. 

Lexa tried over and over again to convince herself that Clarke was straight, that she was off-limits, that she was completely and totally unavailable, but nothing worked. So instead, she just focused on being around her. 

Lexa was doing fine until Clarke had put her head into her lap during the movie. Her hands begged her brain to let her fingers run through her hair, but her brain told her to sit as stiff as a board. It wasn’t until Lexa had downed another glass of wine that she found herself in this now compromising position on the couch. 

The only downer was that Clarke was knocked out. Her cheek smushed against Lexa, mouth open slightly, arm thrown around Lexa’s hip. 

I am so screwed. 

~

Clarke

Clarke awoke to an arching shoulder but a comfortable warmth pressed against her. She blinked slowly and took in her surroundings. The tv still shown blue in the morning light and there was a sticky pile of chocolate chip ice cream melted on the coffee table. Brown curly hair blocked the rest of her view, as Lexa lay sleeping, pressed completely against her. 

They were face to face on the couch and Clarke wondered briefly how the thing had held them both. Clarke moved slightly, trying not to disturb the sleeping figure next to her, stretching her shoulder before moving back into her original position against Lexa. She hadn’t been this close to someone since Finn.

This is what friends do, right? 

Clarke was so deep in thought she didn’t even realize that Lexa was starting to stir. Removing her hand from where it was curled in between them, Lexa stretched out and opened her eyes. They widened when she took in the situation and jumped back. Unfortunately for her, back meant off of the couch and onto the floor so she landed with a large thud. 

“Lex! Are you alright?” Clarke sat up, reaching out her hand, but Lexa had already stood up. 

“I’m fine, i’m fine. What time is it?” Lexa looked around frantically, running her fingers through her hair which had come undone sometime during the night. 

“It’s 7:30, early.” Clarke stated, a little confused as to why Lexa was acting so jumpy. 

“I should go, things to do, you know how it is.” Lexa started backing towards the front door.

“Wait,” Clarke stood up too, “Can I at least make you coffee or something? The animals aren’t in complete dire need are they?” 

Lexa smiled softly, though more to herself. 

“I really should get going,” she started, but when Clarke’s face fell, she continued, “But I guess coffee wouldn’t be too bad.” 

Clarke smiled widely and lead Lexa towards the kitchen. 

“So what did you think of the movie last night then?” Clarke asked, grabbing coffee mugs from the top shelf. Lexa swallowed thickly as Clarke’s shirt rode up, exposing her bare hip. Lexa could just see a purple line rising above the waistband of her pyjama pants. Lexa cleared her throat. 

“It was okay, that little kid was adorable.” 

“I’ll tell you who was really adorable,” Clarke turned, wiggling her eyebrows;

“Zac Efron” They said in unison, laughing.

“I don’t know,” Clarke started “Taylor Schilling killed it too. She was so….. agressive.”  
Lexa almost spit out her coffee, instead choking it down, coughing as she reached a hand up to wipe away any that might have escaped the corner or her lips. 

“Oh,” Clarke grabbed a napkin, “here,” she reached her hand up, dabbing at the corner of Lexa’s mouth. Looking up, Clarke found Lexa’s eyes fixed on her. It was as if someone had punched her directly in the gut; all of the air went out of her. She stood, transfixed, her hand still pressed against Lexa’s chin, their eyes connected.

It wasn’t until Clarke could feel the soft brush of Lexa’s breath across her lips that she realized how close they had gotten. Clarke immediately jumped back, bringing her hands together in a nervous frenzy.

Lexa nervously placed her now cold coffee on the counter,

“I really should get going,” Lexa stood up to leave, “Thanks for having me though, it was fun.”

Clarke could only nod, eyes still wide with realization (She’s so fucking screwed). Lexa walked out of the back door then and headed across the yard and over the hill towards the barn. She would have to come back to pick up her truck, but Clarke would worry about that later.

~

Instead of thinking about Lexa and the knot in her stomach, she cleaned the whole damn house. From her mess the night before to the mess that was her current living situation, mops, brooms, sponges, and buckets now littered the floors. Soon the house began to smell of bleach and vinegar, her mum’s go to cleaning solution, because why buy when you can just make your own? 

Clarke was so involved in her work that she didn’t even spare a glance outside until the sun was sinking down and when she did, she gasped in shock. The winds from the night before had littered the yard with tree branches, and now that was paying attention, she could hear sirens in the distance.

She quickly flipped on the news and saw that several power lines were down around the area. Her first thought went to her mum, so she whipped out her phone and texted her a quick message just to see if she was alright. Her second thought was with the animals.

Even though the barn wasn’t very far, there was always that chance that maybe, just maybe, something went wrong. So she pulled on her boots and jogged over as quickly as her poor legs would carry her. 

Walking in through the open side door, she breathed a sigh of relief. No fires, no vagabonds, no chaos. All seemed to be well.

“Couldn’t get enough of me or something?” Clarke jumped and spun around on her heel. Lexa was wiping off her hands with a rag and smirking at her

“Uhh, I was ju-”

“Relax, Clarke. I’m just joking.” Lexa’s smile faltered a bit, but picked up quickly. 

“I just wanted to check on the animals, I heard sirens and after the storm last night…” Clarke trailed off, looking at anything besides the semi-sweaty, tanned brunette beauty in front of her.

“Yeah, last night made quite a ruckus. One might think that things would never be the same after a storm like that.” Lexa wasn’t subtle, Clarke gave her that, and despite herself, she smiled a bit.

“Maybe they won’t.” Clarke replied, finally looking at Lexa, her blue eyes piercing, “but its a good thing that so many people are working hard to clean up the mess.” Lexa’s smirk dropped, eyes fading. 

“Yeah,” Lexa echoed, “It’s a good thing.”

“Well, now that i can see everything is in order here, I’m just gonna…-” Clarke jabbed her thumb over her shoulder, indicating that she was headed back to the house. “It’s getting late.” Lexa only nodded her response, already turning to get back to her work.

“I’m just going to come by and pick up the truck later,” Lexa yelled from across the barn just as Clarke had started out, “So, don’t worry if you wake up and it’s gone or something.” Clarke laughed a little.

“Don’t worry, I won’t freak out.” She started making her way outside again before turning around. Clarke had no clue what compelled her to do it, but before she could even attempt to stop herself she was shouting, “Why don’t you just stay over again. My mum’s gone and I really don’t like being alone.” Clarke held her breath, waiting for a response, knowing that is should be a ‘no’, but hoping that is was a ‘yes’.

“Okay,” Lexa shouted back, “As long as you make me coffee again in the morning.” 

Definitely not subtle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, new chapter! As you might have noticed, I've gotten into a Thursday update schedule. It keeps me focused. As always let me know if you like it or hate it or if you want to see a specific scene. I had a lot of fun writing this one because I want to create this tension between them despite Lexa's terrible attempts at flirting and Clarke's terrible attempts at feigning straight.   
> Hope you liked it!


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